No Man Is An Island
by Redrose001
Summary: Sherlock decides to pay a visit after not seeing him for weeks and attempts to be a good brother. Set after The Final Problem.


Sherlock had started to believe that his brother was dead. He hadn't seen or had been in contact with his brother in several weeks, while before this wouldn't have bothered him in the slightest and he would have felt rather relieved that he didn't have his brother's nose looming on top of him most of the time, however this time things were different. He had last seen his brother in Mycroft's office while their parents had yelled at Mycroft about Eurus, and once their parents had left the room and Sherlock had been escorted out like a child, he saw a glimpse of his brother through the door of the room right before it closed with a loud bang. It didn't take a detective to know that Mycroft probably wasn't 'fine,' as he claimed to be when Sherlock had asked him before the lecture from their parents had started. He didn't know what made him start feeling more concern about his brother, but he did realise that Mycroft wasn't as strong as he liked to believe he was and he did see a new side to his brother which wasn't something that Sherlock had expected. It was more human. Sherlock wasn't aware that he had liked it or not but he had learned in the last few months that people even himself and his brother were unfortunately human.

It was the third week of Mycroft not being in contact with him or making an appearance anywhere that Sherlock decided to make a visit to his brother. He had asked Greg about Mycroft several times as he was meant to be looking after him but Greg had always said the same thing, saying that Mycroft would tell him to leave the shopping that he had brought over every couple of days onto the table and then to leave. It wasn't a good sign, as Mycroft had always somewhat tolerated Lestrade to an extent higher than what he did for most people, Sherlock wasn't too sure about the nature of their relationship due to the fact that he had never really seemed to care about the welfare of his brother before, however the two had always seem to have at least a respect for another, and now Mycroft was not wanting to have any interaction with the man who was meant to be looking after him. Sherlock had even sent a few enquires about Mycroft to his assistants at work however all of them said the same thing and that was that Mycroft had not been in the office and he had been uncontactable for weeks. This added to the suspicion and the belief that his brother was possibly dead or he had gone missing and decided to possibly flee the country to go to the French countryside as he knew that Mycroft had talked about living there once he had retired from his position in the government.

Breaking into Mycroft's home wasn't too difficult despite the fact that Mycroft had placed new security systems into his home despite changing them after Sherlock had pulled his little prank on him-which despite the verbal lashing that he had gotten from Mycroft, it was still a fine piece of craftmanship and he did end up laughing to himself quietly when he thought of the his brother's reaction to the clown in his home every now and then. The task of breaking into his brother's house was made easier due to the fact that Lestrade had given him the spare key in which he used to get into Mycroft's house to drop off the newspapers every morning before he had went over to Scotland Yard. Sherlock walked through the door of Mycroft's house and the first thing that he had noticed was a strong smell of tobacco. He breathed it in and sighed heavily, Mycroft had moved onto high tar cigarettes , a sign that things weren't good as Mycroft usually smoked low tar due to the fact that he smoked like a beginner however he must have become more used to smoking in the last time they had seen another. Sherlock savored the smell of cigarettes, he had missed them so much however he had decided to quit properly this time due to being around John's daughter so often now that he didn't want make his god daughter breathe in his second hand smoke when she was with him. It was a terrible sacrifice however it was worth it, especially when that little girl smiled at him and begged to be picked up by him.

"You can leave the shopping on the table," Mycroft's voice came from his sitting room, his voice seemed to lack the usual vigour that it seemed to have and it was a lot lower than what it normally was. "The money is on the counter, let yourself out."

Sherlock opened up the door to the sitting room to find Mycroft sitting in the dark watching old films, more precisely old family films. Sherlock had no idea that Mycroft would care for such sentimentalities, however Sherlock had never cared about learning about his brother in the past , so perhaps his brother had always cared for sentimental things like recordings of the family and Sherlock had never take the time to discover that fact. Mycroft looked so unlike Mycroft, Sherlock had thought as he saw his brother sitting in his usual pose when he was deep in thought, resting his head with his hand staring at the screen, however this pose was familiar to see his brother in, the sight of his brother not wearing a suit was something that did concern Sherlock as Mycroft saw no excuse not to be properly dressed. Instead of the suit and tie, Mycroft was wearing his pajamas with a ratty and hideous dressing gown that their parents had bought them the years before for Christmas. Mycroft had't looked like he had slept for days, Sherlock believed that he was the cause of that as he did have a clown in Mycroft's home and he knew that his brother had been deathly afraid of them ever since they were children and their parents had thought that it would be a good idea to invite an alcoholic clown around to celebrate Sherlock's eighth birthday party. Empty glasses of alcohol were on the table where Mycroft had kept his ash tray which was filled with ash and cigarette ends. He was sure that his brother had lost some weight probably around four and a half pounds. Really he hadn't seen Mycroft in such as state for years, the last time he had seem Mycroft this bad was probably around the time he had been sent to the hospital with an a really bad overdose when he was in his early twenties and Mycroft hadn't left his room for days.

"Mycroft, what are you doing with yourself?" Sherlock asked, deciding that cutting straight to the point was the best thing to do. He opened up the curtains and noticed the wince Mycroft gave as the light filled the room. He sat down on the chair next to his brother and let out a sigh as he started to crave cigarettes even more than before. "Smoking? Thought that you were trying to quit, you kept saying that it was bad for the health."

Mycroft didn't say anything for a minute, spending far too much time putting out his cigarette that he was spoking into the ash tray. "You can leave," Mycroft stated, his voice low and full of agitation , "besides, isn't a man allowed to have some indulgences in this life?" He offered the box over to Sherlock, who refused it. "I do appreciate you checking up on me, however I must insist to you that I am fine."

"Don't be so stupid, Mycroft." Sherlock replied with a sigh, "What is sitting in your home alone going to achieve? I have heard from your assistant that you weren't in work. I understand that you were taking some time off but this is unlike you. You went to work when you had pneumonia and you didn't let that stop you."

Mycroft switched off the film that was playing, a particularly touching moment of the two of them were hugging as children was on the screen before the screen went blank. "I'm taking some time off, " he stated as he moved to go back to his pose of deep thought, "permanently. I've not handed in my notice yet, I'm still trying to figure out how to say why I am not fit for the job even after over fifteen years of service."

"So is this how you are going to spend your time off?" Sherlock asked with another sigh as he questioned Mycroft's levels of stupidity and the obvious lie that Mycroft would boast about being the smart one between the two of them. "Sitting in here and watching films, just because you were an idiot all of those years ago."

"That moment of stupidity cost the lives of five people," Mycroft replied back in a low voice, one that Sherlock was used to hearing when the two of them would argue about who the smart one was between the two of them. "It could have been a lot more if you didn't solve the case. I can't afford to make another mistake like that again, it is better for me to resign my position for someone who is more better suited for the job and not make the same mistakes as I did, " he gestured to the door with his hand. "You may go now."

"Figure that I would stay around a bit longer, thougth that you could do with some human interaction," he pulled out his mobile phone and brought up a picture of Rosie and showed it to his brother in the hopes that it would give him a glimpse of the world and give him motivation not to be a hermit, seeing Rosie had been helping him get himself together and he hoped that it would have the same effect on his brother. "She's getting bigger, I've been trying to teach her. John is against it, says she doesn't need to know about anatomy or the solar system at her age but she has a good brain on her. I'm thinking about teaching her about poisons sometime."

"She looks functioning," Mycroft replied, "looks human," he passed the phone back over to Sherlock and reached a glass of whiskey that was close to him. "You don't need to trouble yourself with visiting-"

"I'm not having you lock yourself away like a hermit," Sherlock cut him off quickly. "If you are becoming a hermit, go and get yourself a hobby or something. I had never thought that you would be so distraught about the situation. I know that we nearly died and that we were placed in some uncomfortable situations however despite all that everything worked out in the end."

"Five people died because of me, I couldn't even bring myself to pull the trigger and yet people died." Mycroft said with a roll of his eyes, he started to sound agitated. Sherlock didn't know if it was because of what he just said or the whole visit was just annoying Mycroft completely. "None of this would have happened if I didn't decide to give her five minutes with Moriarty. I don't regret locking her up, it was for our own protection. For you and our parents."

"Our sister has a name, Mycroft!" Sherlock barked. "Eurus is our sister, our sister did some terrible things but regardless of what happened, she is still our sister. She's family."

"We don't need to talk about this," Mycroft insisted. "I'm fine, you know that I'm not dead. Feel free to pass the message onto our parents." There was something that seemed amiss about his brother that Sherlock couldn't put his finger on. The guilt that Mycroft was experiencing was clear and the lack of sleep and smoking that put it down to that. The fact that his brother had just seemed to be completely disconnected from the world apart from his small interaction with Lestrade as he brought the shopping, it was something that concerned Sherlock as Mycroft liked to know everything which was going on, a habit that Sherlock despised normally. The most concerning thing was that Mycroft hadn't been at work and he was going to resign from it. Mycroft was a workaholic and he was constantly tied to his desk and he loved that, without his work Mycroft had nothing and willingness to leave meant something really concerning. A wave of realisation went over Sherlock, he stood up quickly and removed the handle from Mycroft's umbrella where the hidden gun was kept and he removed the bullets that were in there. He didn't need to find a box of bullets as Mycroft was far too arrogant to believe that he didn't need use his weapon and that the bullets in the gun were enough if he was ever attacked. It was probably unnecessary but the signs were there. He walked back through to the room and placed the gun on the table, Mycroft looked at it and rolled his eyes.

"Are you needing chips right now?" Sherlock asked his brother, standing in front of him.

"I'm not hungry." Mycroft stated, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Chips," Sherlock repeated, "Chips are a perk of feeling-"

"I'm not going to commit suicide," Mycroft replied once the had realised what Sherlock was meaning, "what do you think I am, some idiot? I know that I am not wanted but I wouldn't go that far. I recall you saying that one's life wasn't their own."

"Good." Sherlock replied stiffly. "I wasn't sure if I needed to bring you chips if you were in hospital or not. I don't know what the policy on bringing food into hospital is."

Mycroft didn't say anything for a few minutes. He looked at Sherlock with a faint look of amusement painted over his features. "If I didn't know any better I would say that you were feeling some sentiment towards me,"

"Well our parents are going to be concerned if two of their children are not around are they." Sherlock replied as he sat back down on the arm chair. "You were displaying signs, have you been taking your medication?"

Mycroft didn't reply to him, he made the move to pick up another cigarette and picked up his lighter. "Are you sure that I can't tempt you?" He asked, an attempt to change the subject.

"Locking yourself away isn't going to solve your problems," Sherlock said with a sigh. "Doing what you are doing is just pointless and it doesn't achieve anything apart from making the people who care about you worry."

"I don't know why they are worrying about me of all people," Mycroft replied, "I did end up causing this, those five minutes with him had caused all of the problems that we faced. If i just stayed away and decided not to give our sister any treats, no one this would have happened, perhaps continuing on with uncle Rudy was a mistake," He didn't speak for a few more minutes, Sherlock sensed that something was on his brother's mind and didn't speak and let Mycroft continue when he was ready. " I don't understand why you wanted to turn the gun on yourself. I was trying to make a sacrifice for you. One last act of brotherly compassion."

Sherlock didn't respond for a few moments, completely unsure about what to say. He knew that Mycroft was prompting for him to pull the trigger when they were in the room, he knew that Mycroft did that in order for John to be alive. Mycroft did know that he valued John over most things and people in the world and would have given up just about all things in the world to save John, however he couldn't kill his brother. It was a weakness when he had the gun in his hand all he could think about was all the times that Mycroft had been at his side. He had thought about times when they were children together and Mycroft was teaching him the art of deduction and the long summers with visits to the beach. He could think about the times that Mycroft had picked him up from alleyways and drug dens and stayed with him in the hospital when he had made the mistake of overdosing. It was just wrong to kill Mycroft even though Sherlock had found him incredibly annoying at times and wished for him to be taken away by the east wind as it unplucked the unworthy from the earth. Perhaps this was his act of brotherly compassion.

"How about I make some tea?" Sherlock suggested, deciding that this was probably one of the most british responses that he could think of. Mycroft shook his head. "Mycroft just because you were an idiot back then and this situation happened. Don't give up on your life. We saved a lot of people that night despite what happened."

"Five people died because of me," Mycroft murmured. "These deaths could have been avoided and have been preventable if I had decided to just leave our sister alone." He put out his cigarette. "I had never seen a death before, and now I cannot stop thinking about them. It is a lot different dealing with death when you are behind a desk, you know?" Mycroft said with a sigh, " I have to say that it is easier, you don't think of the dead as actual people, they are just numbers. Seeing the governor and his wife...reminded me that people die, there is a person behind every death. I had sent over flowers for the funeral, it was the least I could do."

"What is done is done," Sherlock replied curtly, "we cannot change the past, and you should be letting these demons affect you.."

"I should have told you about her, I thought that I was protecting you," Mycroft stood up, he walked over to the other arm chair and placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"You did what you thought was best." Sherlock replied. "I meant it when I said that your performance of Lady Bracknell was great, " Sherlock sighed, " I'm going to regret saying this, but you weren't a completely rubbish older brother."

Mycroft smiled a little, not much however it was the most emotion that he had expressed since Sherlock had arrived. The smile went away quickly though, but it was something neither the less. Sherlock reached out into his pocket and pulled out a business card, one for John's old therapist who Sherlock had taken up to seeing. He had rejected the idea of going to a therapist at the first, however one couldn't go through all the experiences that he did without someone to talk to. Lestrade had arranged it and had waited with Sherlock for the first few sessions before they had begun. Sherlock didn't say anything for them for the first five sessions , however he did soon discover that talking did help and it did help him feel less weighed down. Mycroft picked up the card and opened his mouth to protest.

"It helps," said Sherlock. " talking to someone helps. Lestrade recommended that I go and see a therapist, even if it is mostly nonsense, it helps to talk. Lestrade is wanting to help look after you and so am I, and there is a whole group of people who are willing to help you but you need to let them help you . You really shouldn't be alone right now, we went through a traumatic experience and being alone and just thinking about it isn't going to help you move on. I know this from experience, and I also know that giving up isn't going to do anything good."

Mycroft went back into his armchair and went back into his thinking pose. Sherlock frowned, perhaps it would require more than one visit to Mycroft's to make things better. He pulled out his phone and sent a message over to Lestrade telling him to stay for dinner with Mycroft and to bring chips, it was the least he could do. "I'm going to go home." Sherlock said, knowing full too well that Mycroft probably did need some space to think and to process things. "Lestrade is coming around with chips in the next twenty minutes, go and clean yourself up for him." He stood up and put the gun and the bullets into his pocket. "I'll be around tomorrow, I'll bring Operation with me and maybe connect four as well." He said as he stood up, he made his way to the door and before he left, he turned around. "I do apologize about the clown by the way," he said before he left the room.

"How is she?" Mycroft asked before he left. "Eurus? I heard that you were visiting her, Lestrade mentioned it."

"She's been better," Sherlock replied. "We've been playing the volin together. I know that you aren't a fan of the violin however feel free to come to Sherrinford on Saturday to watch. Our parents will be there, they'll be happy to see you."

Mycroft didn't say anything but he nodded his head slowly. Sherlock let out a sigh of relief as Mycroft was willing to leave his self made prison for himself. "Goodbye, Mycroft. I will contact you this evening about Sherrinford." He nodded his head, "And if you do something like this again Mycroft, I won't hesitate to put another clown in your home." He could hear a groan of frustration from Mycroft and he knew that his brother was rolling his eyes at him. Sherlock smiled to himself as he made his way out of the house, knowing that his brother was still in the shell of a man that he had become. He made his way out of the house and nodded to Greg when he saw his car come into the driveway, smiling slightly to himself as he saw and could smell chips coming from the open window of the car. Perhaps things would work out in the end for his brother, Sherlock thought to himself as he made his way to Baker Street, making a stop off at the Thames to dispose of the gun and to buy chips for John and himself before he attempted to teach Rosie about the different types of poisonous mushrooms this evening.


End file.
